


A Hard Bargain (Or How Draco Malfoy was Ripped-Off)

by vala (valinorean)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Aurors, EWE, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-30
Updated: 2011-08-30
Packaged: 2017-10-23 06:29:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,489
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/247228
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/valinorean/pseuds/vala
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Never trust in the god of love. He is a swindler and cheat. But sometimes the trouble is worth the price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Hard Bargain (Or How Draco Malfoy was Ripped-Off)

**Author's Note:**

> Beta: wendypops  
> Pinch hit for HD relief's Japan Relief Fest

“What’s the price for Love these days?”

“Love? That’s a tall order. Usually Devotion, a fair bit of Time, some measure of Freedom, and a chunk of your Sanity.”

“Alright, I’ll take it.”

\--

  
“Traitor,” Draco slurred over his Firewhisky at he glared blearily at his partner of four years.

“Oh cheer up, Draco, it won’t be that bad,” Neville said with a laugh.

“Not bad for _you_ ,” Draco said sourly. “You’d be at Hogwarts mucking about in your Greenhouse, leaving me alone to deal with the rest of the shite at the Ministry.”

“But I thought you’ve been assigned a new partner?” Neville asked confusedly.

“Exactly.”

A few weeks ago, Neville received a letter from the Headmistress of Hogwarts offering him the position of Herbology Professor since the current professor would be retiring at the end of the school year. Neville had immediately filed his resignation from the Auror Department the following week. Draco, being his partner for the last four years, had not been very happy about it, but if there was anyone more deserving of a quiet life as a professor at Hogwarts, it would be Neville, and Draco knew that.

Draco could still clearly remember the first time he reported to Head Auror Robards after completing Auror training to be introduced to his Auror partner. He had nearly quit on his first day when he learned that he’d been assigned as Neville Longbottom’s new partner. However, it was only the thought that he had already wasted three years on Auror training that kept him from leaving. Draco never expected Neville to be a competent Auror and would often have flashbacks of exploding cauldrons and wrongly-tansfigured objects from their years in school during the first few weeks. But after a while, it became apparent that Neville was actually good at what he did and that they worked well together as partners, much to Draco’s horror and Neville’s amusement.

That partnership, however, was about to come to an end.

“But why can’t you stay on a bit longer?” Draco said, failing to keep the whine out of his voice, for which he blamed the copious amount of alcohol. “It’s only April. You can still stay until the 31st of August.”

Neville laughed. “And die from shock on the first day of classes the next day? Not likely. Besides, I need more than just the summer to learn all of Professor Sprout’s lesson plans and the condition of the Greenhouses. That way the transition won’t be too hard for both the students and the plants.”

Draco only scowled into his drink. Trust his partner to fret over some useless _weeds_ instead of him.

From the corner of his eye, Draco saw Neville place his forearms on the table and lean forward, eyeing him curiously. Draco ignored him and was about to raise his glass to his lips when it was suddenly plucked from his slack grip. His cry of protest was cut off by Neville’s furrowed brow and piercing brown eyes.

“Alright, what’s gotten into you?” Neville said evenly. “Whom did Robards partner you with?”

Draco groaned inwardly and let out a puff of breath before looking away. He hated the way Neville could see through him despite his best efforts to remain unaffected. Of course, it came naturally from being partners, but it still unnerved him to think that sometimes Neville knew him even better than his own mother.

Suddenly two figures loomed over their table with a shout of “There you are!” by way of greeting. Draco watched in horror as Weasley dragged forward two chairs from a nearby table and dropped onto the one closer to Neville. Following Weasley’s lead, the man behind him hesitantly sat down on the other vacant seat beside Draco.

Of course it just had to be Potter, the one person he’d rather not see right now. Fuck.

“Speak of the fucking devil,” Draco mumbled and downed his shot of Firewhisky in one go before signalling the bartender for another round, this time for the four of them.

With a Gryffindor for a partner, and a war hero at that, it was inevitable that Draco would be dragged into Neville’s little circle of friends that included the Weasel and the Golden Boy himself. Draco resented it at first when other people began calling him their pet Death Eater, but he nearly died from shock when it was Weasley and his infamous temper who had put a stop to it by socking the Deputy Head of the Auror Department on the mouth one day.

“He got it wrong,” Weasley said with a shrug and grinned. “You’re our pet ferret.”

Never in his life would he have thought to get along with a Weasley, and this particular Weasley at that. But it turned out that they had more in common than they realized. Draco had been the only one who could stand playing chess with him, something that everyone had been eternally grateful for (they wanted to give him a medal, really, but he refused), and they had even partnered up on several missions when their respective partners were unavailable. By the time Weasley left the Aurors to join his brother in their joke shop business, they had been friends enough that Draco received an invitation to his and Granger’s wedding.

Potter on the other hand, was more…complex. Draco had to admit that while both he and Potter got along better these days (and by getting along, he really meant that fists and hexes only flew once every two weeks), it still rankled him how Potter still got under his skin and had him reverting to his old hostility quite easily. He thought he had moved on from childish grudges, seeing how he and Weasley got along fine.

Then much to his horror, it became apparent to him why he couldn’t get past his ire for Potter when he found himself absently checking out Potter’s arse one day and actually thinking that the prat looked quite fit. Ever since that day, Draco had been waffling between wanting to kill the bastard and just plain wanting him.

He shook his head to banish the disturbing thoughts from his mind as he turned to the two intruders.

“Ferret, Nev.” Weasley nodded to them as he settled into his chair. “Haven’t seen you two in a while.”

“And I’ll be seeing less of you once I transfer to Hogwarts,” Neville replied with a smug grin, clearly not upset at the thought.

Draco nearly smiled upon seeing the look of delight on his partner’s face and thought that he really couldn’t resent Neville for the opportunity that had been presented to him. He knew Hogwarts would be good for Neville. And then Draco frowned when he suddenly remembered just what it had cost him. He then turned to face Potter and said, “You know, I don’t really need to see _you_ until Monday. Can’t you go the fuck away?”

Across from him, Neville gaped.

“Harry? _You_ and _Draco_?”

Neville received a withering look from Potter, who apparently understood what the question was about. This sent Neville doubling over in laughter, making him choke on his own drink. Draco thought it served him right for finding amusement in other people’s misery.

“What? I don’t get it,” Weasley asked bewilderedly while slapping Neville’s back and looking back and forth between the two scowling Aurors. “What did I miss?”

“Robards—incredibly wicked—sense of humour,” Neville gasped in between his laughter before turning to Weasley. “He made them partners.”

“What?!” Weasley exclaimed. “ _When?_! How come I didn’t know this?”

“He announced it earlier today.” Draco glowered darkly at no one in particular.

Then Weasley was throwing his head back, tilting his chair as he howled in laughter and nearly toppling to the floor. Beside him Neville was still wheezing and clutching his stomach.

“This is your fault, Ron,” Potter said pointing an accusatory finger at his friend. “If you hadn’t left the force to join George I wouldn’t need a new partner!”

“And miss this cosmic retribution from the universe? I don’t think so, mate,” Weasley cried in glee, guffawing at his own joke. “Oh Merlin, there _is_ a god!”

It was a well-known fact in the department that Potter’s technique for investigation and arrest was somewhat…well, unconventional was too mild a word for it, really. Other Aurors tend to shrug it off saying that there was a certain method to his madness, and if it was good enough to defeat the Dark Lord, then it was good enough for them. The only person who rivalled Potter’s unorthodox methods, and consequently the rank of top Auror in the department, was Draco. As a result, both Weasley and Neville never ran out of things to complain about whenever the four of them got together. Neville bore the role of a martyred partner quite well too, and he had even perfected his long-suffering sigh to an art.

Their drinks arrived and four shots of Firewhisky were placed on the table in front of them. Potter took one and downed it with a single gulp before taking the other glass that was meant for Weasley and downing that too. Draco gave a smirk of approval before taking Neville’s drink and placing it in front of Potter. The two were still busy being arses and he knew they wouldn’t notice the lack of drinks.

“I’m already up to three,” Draco said, casting a sidelong glance at the two laughing men. “You’ll need to catch up if you plan on spending the rest of evening with these two.”

“Thanks,” Potter mumbled before taking another swig from his drink.

Meanwhile, Weasley and Neville had already moved on to discussing who had had the worse time being their partners.

“Draco made me dress up like a girl even though he could easily pass for one without Glamour!”

“Harry made me ride a runaway Thestral from London all the way to Hogwarts to return it to Hagrid, then back again because apparently it wasn’t from the Hogwarts herd!”

“Draco made me dance around naked in Trafalgar Square on Hollow’s Eve pretending to be drunk so we could lure that criminal who liked to pretend he was an Auror.”

“But we caught that criminal—!”

“Harry let himself be captured by Neo-Death Eaters so we could find out where their headquarters was and then he expected me to rescue him without leaving a single clue to where they'd taken him!”

“But you still found me—!”

“Merlin, they deserve each other so much.”

“I know, mate. It’s bloody brilliant!”

The two collapsed in a heap of tears and laughter, oblivious to the scowls and indignant looks their former partners were sending their way.

“Fucking traitors,” Draco sneered once again at Neville who was now clinging to Weasley for support.

Beside him, Potter muttered his agreement into his already empty glass of Firewhisky. “Traitors.”

=

  
“Potter! Malfoy! Get in here!”

Draco groaned from his desk in his and Potter’s cubicle. He knew the Head Auror would be calling them sooner or later, but he had hoped to at least finish his morning tea. An equally annoyed grunt escaped Potter’s lips as he reluctantly got up and led the way to Robards’ office.

They had just returned from a covert mission where they were supposed to infiltrate an illegal potions ring using Polyjuice Potion. But when they realised that they had been brought to the group’s main headquarters instead of a satellite location, Potter had literally jumped at the opportunity to take down the leader of the operation.

It was assignments like these that got them the position of top ranking Aurors in the department. It was also assignments like these that got them into trouble from their supervisors more often than not.

“Sir, I assure you it’s all Potter’s fault,” Draco said as soon as they entered the Head Auror’s office even before they sat down.

“It’s not!” Potter said, immediately on the defence, before settling on one of the armchairs in front of the Head Auror’s desk. It was a well-practised move—being summoned by Robards to be reprimanded for their behaviour was a weekly affair.

“It is too, Potter. It always is,” Draco snapped back before turning to the Head Auror. “Wait, what did we do wrong this time?”

“I’ve been told that you two broke protocol…again,” Robards said sternly. “One of the Aurors on the scene told me you two took down twelve suspects on your own without getting clearance for arrest or sending for reinforcements.”

“It was Potter who didn’t wait for backup,” Draco huffed. “He just had to dive into the fray and even tried to leave me out of the fight.”

“What?!” Potter said, his voice rising in ire. “I lured them away so you could go call for help!”

“And you expect me to leave just because you told me to?”

“I had everything under control!” Harry shouted. “You didn’t need to come back!”

“You call that under control? One of them nearly sliced off your one of your limbs, Potter!” Draco shouted back. “And I never leave my partner. Ever. Even it it’s you.”

“Enough!” Robards roared over the noise. “You’re both lucky you’re the best team we’ve seen in decades or I’d have thrown you two to Property and Evidence long ago.”

They both immediately snapped their mouths shut. Nobody wanted to be stuck in Evidence. It was boring as hell and it was the equivalent of babysitting old knickknacks and rotting crime scene souvenirs from cold cases.

“But sir,” Potter said, much calmer this time. “We’ve been after that potions ring for months and we were finally able to close the case! Doesn’t the result matter at all?”

Robards sighed and sat back in defeat, knowing that Potter had a point. “Yes, it does. But it doesn’t change the fact that you’re both endangering the lives of your fellow Aurors.”

“They were hardly in any danger,” Draco scoffed. “We took down all twelve men before they even arrived.”

“You do realise that when I say ‘your fellow Aurors’ that includes your partner,” Robards threw them both a disgusted look. “You two have to stop this before you get each other killed.”

Recognising an exit, Draco instantly became contrite and said in an apologetic voice, “Of course, sir. We’re sorry for our brash behaviour and I assure you it will never happen again.”

Beside him, Potter was nodding his head vigorously. It was funny how they could transition quickly from argument to agreement when trying to get off the hook. But Robards was having none of it.

“That’s what you said the last three times you were here, Malfoy, yet here we are again,” Robards said evenly. “I’ve tried to be lenient with you two, but people have begun grumbling. Even the Minister has asked me to intervene and now I’m left with no choice but to put you both on probation for a week—”

“No!”

“You can’t do that!”

“—and,” continued Robards, his voice rising above the protests, “I expect you two work out whatever issues you have with each other.”

“And how do you expect us to do that?” Potter said angrily at the same time Draco said, “We don’t have _issues_ —” he made quote marks in the air “—as everyone likes to call it.”

“Find a way,” said Robards. “In fact, I order you to spend every waking moment in each other’s presence if that’s what it takes. I want results by the end of the week or it’s Evidence for you two.”

“But…”

“Not one more word, or I’ll make you two sleep in the trainees’ dorms together for a week,” Robards warned before waving his hand to dismiss them.

“But—!”

“Just shut up, Malfoy!” Potter hissed. He quickly got up and grabbed Draco’s sleeve, dragging him from the room before the Head Auror could add any more to their punishment.

“Unhand me, Potter,” Draco said pulling away as soon as they stepped out of the door. Then he whirled to confront his partner. “If this affects my performance rating and I’m pushed down to the _second_ top Auror, I’m putting the entire blame on you.”

“Me? Half of this is your fault too, you know,” Potter said incredulously. And Draco heard him mutter something alarmingly close to “And you _are_ only second from the top” but Draco chose to ignore it.

“Yes,” Draco retorted. “But I don’t see you caring about your performance rating, while I am very much concerned about mine.”

“Merlin you drive me crazy,” Potter said, shaking his head.

“ _I_ drive _you_ crazy, Potter?” Draco shot back. “You’re the one who’s been driving me insane since day one! Argh!”

  
\--

“I thought you sold me Love last time? How come I don’t have it? I demand a refund!”

“Now, look here. I don’t do this business to cheat people. You know that. You have Love, but maybe what you’re looking for is Affection.”  
“Alright, let me buy that too.”

“Unfortunately, I’m all out. You’ll have to buy back some of it from others who own it.”

“Fine. I hope they offer a fairer price than you.”

“Friendship. That would be their price, I reckon.”

\--

  
One month after their temporary suspension (which, in their honest opinion, did absolutely nothing but make them better at hiding their “misdeeds” from their supervisor), Draco found himself sitting on one of the picnic benches outside the Burrow. It was Potter’s birthday and as his partner, he had not been given any option but to attend—especially since he had equally persuaded Potter to attend his own birthday dinner at the Manor the previous month. “You owe me for making me wear formal dress robes during your birthday,” Potter had pointed out and he had no choice but to concede.

Draco shook his head in disbelief. Ten years ago, he wouldn’t have thought that he’d be sitting in the Weasley’s backyard and drinking lightly spiked pumpkin juice and not even wishing for something stronger. But then again, a lot of things were different back then.

“Ah, you’re finally coming clean, then?”

Draco looked up and was startled to see of the eldest Weasley brother walking towards him. Bill, if he remembered correctly. The man was smiling, but the scars on his face made the smile look slightly sinister. Bill then sat beside him and slung one heavy arm around Draco’s shoulder, looking at him with a critical eye.

“I’m sorry?” Draco asked, confused.

“Already?” Bill said with a reproachful look. “Don’t tell me you already have something to be sorry about. Because you know, if you ever hurt Harry…”

“But I—”

Draco opened his mouth to ask what he meant by that remark, but before he could utter anything more, another redheaded Weasley came bounding to them. Charlie, the dragon tamer, Draco thought. He remembered the man from fourth year during the Triwizard Tournament, and possibly the fact that his eyes had been glued to Charlie Weasley’s arse during that time helped his memory along.

Charlie sat on his other side and Draco found himself squashed between the two brothers. They were both pressing uncomfortably against him, one on each side, and were far too close for comfort. Draco swallowed. Maybe he wasn’t imagining the sinister smile after all.

“Well if it isn’t Harry’s pet ferret,” Charlie said with a broad grin. “They say you and Harry have gotten close— _really_ close—these past few months.”

“What?” Draco asked distractedly, trying to think of a way to step out of the uncomfortable space without appearing too rude.

But Charlie met his eyes, and there was a dangerous glint there that seemed almost threatening, and then Draco watched warily as Charlie’s eyes raked up and down his body in a deliberately suggestive manner. At any other time, he would have flirted back at such blatant ogling, but the sinister undertone and the dark look Charlie sent him made him think again.

Finally, when Charlie was done eyeing him, the man exhaled loudly, disappointedly, and said, “I guess you’re not too bad…for competition.”

Bewildered, Draco looked back and forth between the two brothers. What are these Weasleys on about? Did they figure out that he…? Draco shook his head. Impossible, he thought.

Draco was desperately thinking up of an excuse to extract himself from the two brothers who had begun hinting at bodily harm, and was almost glad when they were approached by Weasley— _the_ Weasel, he thought, as it wouldn’t do to call them all Weasleys in his head when he was in the midst of all that ginger. That, and he most certainly would not call him by his first name.

“Oi have you started without me?” the Weasel asked his brothers with a slightly amused laugh. “Don’t be too hard on him, I wanna have a go too.”

“Well, we’re already done with the bollocks-hexing threat and the Harry-is-our-brother speech,” Charlie said mischievously. “Why don’t you go with shipping-body-parts-to-his-mother-one-by-one?”

They all laughed and uneasiness settled at the pit of Draco’s stomach. He knew nothing good would come of this. He anxiously wondered if Potter would hex him if he left the party early and left behind the bodies of three dead Weasleys behind a rose bush.

“You are all impossible,” came a voice from behind them and Draco breathed in relief when George Weasley stepped up from behind them. He was an unlikely saviour, but Draco was grateful nonetheless. “Now leave him be before Harry sees you. Shoo!”

Draco craned his neck and saw George behind him with an empty glass and what Draco desperately hoped was a bottle of Odgen’s. When George began to shove Bill and Charlie away, Draco finally began to relax. The three brothers walked off still laughing at him, but not before giving him friendly, albeit heavy, claps on the shoulder that nearly knocked him off from his seat.

“Don’t worry about them,” George said with a grin. “They’re all really fond of you.”

Draco made a face. “Well if that’s how you lot treat people you’re fond of, I’m afraid to ask what you do to people you actually _like_.”

George laughed and took a seat beside him on the bench. “That bad, huh?”

George uncorked the bottle he was holding and poured a tall shot on the glass and handed it to Draco along with his sympathies. Draco gratefully accepted the drink and was glad that there seemed to be at least one decent Weasley in the family. He remembered the Weasley twins back in school. They were quite known for their pranks and even some of the Slytherins in his year looked up to them. George wasn’t too bad now, he supposed.

He was about to take a sip when the glass was suddenly plucked from his hand.

“The first rule at The Burrow is to never accept any drink from George.”

Draco looked up to see the amused yet exasperated look that Potter gave George. Then George’s expression instantly morphed from a sympathetic friend to a dangerous fiend. He grinned broadly, impishly. And Draco suddenly became grateful that he never got the chance to taste the Firewhisky.

“Aw, Harry you’re no fun, mate,” George complained. When Potter gave him a pointed look, he held up his hands in mock surrender and started walking away. “Can’t blame a man for trying.”

“Sorry about that,” Potter said, giving him an apologetic smile while dumping the contents of the glass into a potted plant.

“What’s in it?” Draco asked curiously.

“I don’t really know,” Potter replied. “I wouldn’t be surprise if it makes you act like a jarvey in heat or turn your hair purple.”

Draco looked horrified for a second before tugging his fringe in front of his eyes, checking to see if it was still in its original platinum blond. Harry laughed at his reaction.

“Don’t worry it’s fine,” Potter said, grinning at him. “So what was that all about?”

Potter gestured to the four Weasley brothers who were still laughing and leering at them from across the garden. Draco sent them a two-finger salute, which made them laugh harder.

“It was nothing,” Draco said, before adding, “Your friends were just being idiots.”

Draco glanced at Potter and saw the man smiling openly and looking wistfully at him. He wasn’t used to being regarded with such open expression and he began to feel uncomfortable.

“What?” Draco asked, slightly embarrassed at the attention.

“Nothing,” Potter said, still smiling. Then Potter leaned forward and placed a quick peck on his cheek before saying, “Thanks for being a good sport and for not killing them.”

Draco was too stunned to say anything and before he knew it, Harry had already walked away. From across the garden, he could hear the annoying hoots and wolf whistles from the rest of the Weasley clan.

He knew right then that he was well and truly fucked.

  
\--

“Back for more, eh?”

“Oh, shut it. I know you love this business. Now tell me, do you sell Lust or Desire?”

“Oh that, I have plenty of. I’ll even give it cheap. Just hand over some Vulnerability and Control and I’ll wrap it up for you. In fact, since you’ve been such a good customer, why don’t I throw in Fidelity for free while I’m at it?”

“Thanks, that’d be perfect.”

\--

  
“Potter! Are you alright?” Draco asked worriedly as he dropped on his knees and bent over Potter’s prone position on the floor.

He debated turning Potter over, unsure whether moving him would cause more injuries than leaving him lying on the dry ground. Then Potter began to move, groaning in effort as he tried to raise his head and roll onto his back.

“Can you move?” Draco asked.

“Yeah,” Potter rasped as Draco cradled his head and held his shoulders, gently helping him to a sitting position. “Don’t think anything’s broken. What the fuck was that?”

“ _Reducto_ or something similar,” Draco answered. “The incantation was in a different language, I didn’t catch what it was.”

They had been chasing a group of criminals who were importing illegal flying carpets from Asia. The advantage they had had over the two Aurors on brooms was that the three criminals could easily fit into a single carpet where one could concentrate on flying while the other two were free to throw hexes.

One of the hexes caught Potter’s broom before he could swerve away and it splintered into a thousand pieces before either of them could react. Knowing the criminals would get away, Potter, damn him, chose to cast a Tracking Spell on the carpet instead of a Cushioning Charm to break his fall.

Draco swooped in to grab Potter but the momentum was too much and Draco lost control of his broom, sending them both careening to the ground. The fall would have killed them had Draco not cast a hasty Cushioning Charm, but they were far too close to the ground when the spell took hold and the landing was rougher than they anticipated.

“We need to tell Robards—” Potter was stopped mid-sentence by a gasp of pain as he tried to stand.

“I already sent a Patronus,” Draco said. “We need to take care of you first.”

Draco draped Potter’s arm around his neck and hauled the other man to his feet. He staggered under the weight and realised that Potter couldn’t stand on his own.

“Fuck,” Draco cursed under his breath before tugging his wand from his arm holster. “Are you okay to Apparate? I’m taking you to St Mungo’s.”

At the mention of the hospital’s name, the arm slung around his neck curled tighter.

“No!” Potter said slightly panicked. “No hospital.”

“Potter, you need to go.” Draco gritted his teeth at his partner’s stubbornness. “You’re badly injured.”

“Please, just take me to my flat,” Potter pleaded. “I have emergency supplies there. I’ll be fine, I promise.”

Draco tried to protest but Potter adamantly refused. Of course bloody Potter wouldn’t want to go to the hospital, and he couldn’t exactly blame the man. Draco knew that if he brought Potter to St. Mungo’s they would keep him there far longer than necessary just to be sure that their precious Saviour was safe. Hell, he wouldn’t be surprised if they call on a trauma specialist for him if he so much as complained of a headache.

Besides, he knew he could never refuse Potter’s request.

“Alright,” Draco said softly. He stepped closer, adjusting Potter’s weight on his shoulder and wrapping his other arm around Potter’s waist for added support. “Hold on,” Draco said as they Disapparated with a soft pop.

They reappeared in Potter’s living room and Draco lowered the man gently on the couch. He immediately went to the bathroom and rummaged through Potter’s medicine cabinet. He grabbed a vial of Restorative Potion, hoping it would be enough. He hesitated before grabbing the small vial of Sleeping Draught to help the healing before heading back out.

When he returned, Potter was still sitting up, but his eyes were closed and his head resting on the back of the couch. His breathing was light and uneven.

“Hey,” Draco said, gently shaking his partner awake. “Don’t fall asleep yet, drink these first.”

Potter’s eyes cracked open and Draco held the two vials out. Potter drank them both, grimacing at the taste before letting his head fall back again. He debated whether he should just let the man sleep like this, but he knew he’d regret it if something happened and he wasn’t there to help. With a sigh, Draco cast a Featherweight Charm over Potter and carried him to his bedroom.

By the time Draco laid the man down on the bed, the Sleeping Draught had taken effect. He had to pry Potter’s arms that were circled around his neck and Draco struggled to remove Potter’s outer robes and boots. He contemplated removing Potter’s shirt and trousers as well, but decided to leave them, knowing how much work it would take to manoeuvre Potter’s dead weight around.

Well, that and the fact that touching a half naked and pliant Potter would be a very bad idea. The very thought itself was already getting him hard.

Draco shook his head and looked around the room. Finding a simple chair tucked into a desk at the corner of Potter’s room, he summoned it and transfigured it into an elegant chaise lounge before settling in to wait for Potter to wake up.

=

When Draco woke up, he was extremely disoriented. He expected to be on the chaise he had transfigured earlier, but instead he found himself sprawled in the middle of the bed and the chaise transfigured back into a chair and neatly tucked under the desk again.

He sat up and nearly choked in surprise when he saw that he was stripped down to his pants and wearing a loose shirt whose smell reminded him strongly of Potter. Slightly alarmed, he wondered how he ended up half naked and wearing Potter’s clothes without even noticing. Surely Potter must have been the one to do it, but why?

“You sleep like the dead,” a voice said and Draco whipped his neck to the door and saw Potter leaning against the frame. “Are you sure you didn’t take the Sleeping Draught by mistake?”

Draco blinked. Potter looked far too good for someone who looked like he’d been run over by a herd of Thestrals a while ago. “How long have you been up?”

“A while,” Potter answered lazily.

Potter walked into the room and sat on the edge of the bed and faced Draco. Draco unconsciously pulled at the sheets to cover himself but realized how ridiculous that looked. After all, Potter had already seen him like this.

“I assume you’re responsible for this?” Draco indicated his state of undress.

“Thought you could use the rest,” Potter replied. “You looked worse than me when I saw you sleeping by the bed.”

“What time is it?” Draco asked, looking around for his wand to try and cast a Tempus charm.

“Early evening,” Potter said. “You slept through the rest of the day. You should have taken a Restorative Potion too,” Potter admonished.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence before Draco started to get off the bed. “Well, it’s good to see you’re doing well,” Draco said. “I should go.”

“Wait,” Potter said, grabbing his arm.

The touch sent an electric shiver down Draco’s arm and he resisted the urge to shake Potter’s hand off to save him from potential embarrassment. Given the current state of his undress, it would be hard to hide his body’s natural reaction to Potter’s touch.

Potter must have noticed him squirming because he released Draco’s arm. Except Potter placed the hand on Draco’s thigh and Draco became all too aware of how close they were sitting together. Draco closed his eyes as willed his body to stay calm. But fuck, it was like trying to stop the ocean tide from coming in.

“I just wanted to say thank you.” Draco heard Potter say quietly. “For rescuing me, I mean.”

“It’s my job,” Draco replied, finally opening his eyes and meeting Potter’s gaze. He tried to keep his breathing even and ignored the burning heat in his thigh under Potter’s palm. “I’m your partner.”

“You didn’t have to stay,” Potter pointed out.

“Of course I did.” Draco sniffed, trying for nonchalance. “Knowing you, you’d just pass out on the couch and—”

And suddenly he was cut off by a set of soft and pliant lips covering his own. A surprised noise came from the back of Draco’s throat with the startling realisation that Potter was _kissing_ him.

He forgot what he was trying to say as everything fell away and nothing else mattered but the feel of Potter’s lips against his own. The kiss was gentle, almost shy, and Draco sighed into it. And Draco’s mind was racing with thoughts from _fucking finally!_ to wondering whether it was a just dream and he hoped to never ever wake up.

The kiss felt like a lifetime, but in truth it only lasted for a few seconds and all too soon, Potter broke away. Draco tried to move forward to recapture the other man’s lips but a hand came up and stopped him, cupping his face tenderly.

“You talk too much,” Potter murmured, smiling.

“Potter I—”

“Shh.” Potter pressed a finger on his lips to silence him. “You know, it’s not every day I get to have Draco Malfoy on my bed.”

Potter leaned forward to nuzzle Draco’s neck and he closed his eyes and tilted his head to give Potter better access. Then Potter gave his thigh a gentle squeeze before moving his hand over his groin, the slight contact making him instantly hard. Draco bit his lower lip to keep from moaning out loud as Potter deftly stroked his clothed erection.

“I should thank you properly for what you did,” Potter whispered against his neck, the warm breath causing him to shiver.

Then Draco’s eyes snapped open and he grabbed Potter’s wrist, stilling the movement. Draco wanted this badly, had been dreaming of this for so long that he couldn’t remember a time when he _didn’t_ want this. But he needed to know if this is what Potter wanted too, and not just a means to _thank_ him.

“Don’t,” Draco said as his grip on Potter’s wrist tightened.

Potter stopped and slowly moved away. He sat back, looking at him with eyes still wide from unveiled desire, but there was a hint of disappointment there.

“Don’t you want this?” Potter asked, pulling his hand away. “I thought you did. You looked like you were enjoying it but…”

“Potter,” Draco said gently, tugging him back. “You do know that after this, there’s no turning back, right? I don’t want this to be just a one off between you and me.”

“Well, that’s what I was hoping for, actually,” Potter said with a sheepish smile. “I was trying to be all Slytherin about it, too. I was hoping that if I succeeded in luring you to my bed, you’d want to stay.”

“Oh,” Draco blinked, surprised and more than slightly amused at Potter’s admission. He hadn’t expected to hear that. “Well, that’s good then, I think.”

Potter broke into a radiant smile before cupping Draco’s face in both his hands and pulling him in for a heated snog. When they broke away they were both smiling and panting slightly and Potter murmured against his lips, “You really do talk too much.”

“Then you should shut me up,” Draco challenged.

“You know what? I think I will,” Potter said, pushing Draco back down to the bed. “Relax, I’ll take care of you.”

Potter climbed on top of him, straddling his legs and leaning down to kiss him some more. Slowly, one by one, their clothes were removed and unceremoniously tossed to the floor. Draco’s eyes fluttered shut when Potter’s body finally lay flush against him, and Draco couldn’t help but moan when their pricks aligned and rubbed against each other.

“Oh fuck,” Potter gasped at the friction and Draco felt him shudder in arousal.

Potter braced himself on one hand and used the other to grasp both their cocks together. Potter stroked them, slowly at first, and Draco revelled at the feeling of Potter’s cock alongside his. But soon enough, the strokes quickened and Draco was involuntarily thrusting against Potter’s hand.

Draco felt under the pillow for a wand and his hand closed around one that wasn’t his. It was Potter’s wand but he didn’t care. He whispered a spell and a slick substance immediately coated his hand. He tossed the wand aside and grabbed both their cocks, coating them both with the liquid and stroking in tandem.

“Potter. Oh fuck,” Draco rasped, as the strokes became faster, slicker.

Draco reached around with his other hand and grabbed Potter’s arse, digging his fingers into the flesh. Draco thought he’d never felt anything more amazing in his life, tugging and thrusting against each other, and it was Potter’s choked _Oh—oh!_ that sent Draco over the edge, splashing them both with hot liquid. A few more frenzied pulls and Potter was coming as well.

And then Potter fell against him, tired and well spent. And Draco didn’t care if they fell asleep like that, all sticky and messy. The only thing he could think of right now was that it was _fucking brilliant!_

 __  
\--

“Hullo, I haven’t seen you here before. Are you looking for something?”

“I…yes. I would like to buy Love please. What would that cost?”

“Depends on whose Love you’re buying. Some can be pretty steep.”

“I’m looking to buy Draco Malfoy’s Love.”

“Ah, that I can give you for free.”


End file.
